


Say You'll Love Me Like A Hobo

by SaffieDarling



Series: Say You Love Me Like A Hobo [1]
Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaffieDarling/pseuds/SaffieDarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That's twice now, you realise.”</p><p>Apparently in the month since they'd last seen each other, Jensen had decided that context was a luxury that Steve no longer required. “Am I supposed to know what the hell you're talking about?”</p><p> </p><p>Jensen points something out to Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say You'll Love Me Like A Hobo

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time I saw somebody mention that Jared Padalecki probably smelt really bad, but Jensen loved him anyway. Years later, the image resurfaced when I was wondering how Christian could stand to wear all those clothes on stage and this was the result. Chris/Steve with minor mentions of unrequited J2.

“Dude, what the hell was that?”

Steve raised an eyebrow as he slid in to the booth. “Good to see you too, Jen, and thank you, it _was_ a great show wasn't it?”

Jensen flapped a hand impatiently. “Yeah yeah, your musical genius never fails to astound me. Now you want to tell me what the hell you were doing hugging Kane up there?”

Steve frowned. “I always hug Kane. It's in his operations manual. Play gigs, feed Jack, hug Kane. If I don't, he gets all surly and cries himself to sleep.”

“Well okay, that's true. But you don't normally _smell_ him as well.”

Steve looked at Jensen like he had lost his mind. Which to be honest, was probably because he thought Jensen had lost his mind. “I'm pretty sure I didn't smell anyone.”

“You kinda did dude. Hell, you practically had your face buried in his hair. You were _sniffing_ him.”

Steve was so not drunk enough for this. “I am so not drunk enough for this.” he announced. “I'm gonna go get a beer and talk to the people who aren't hallucinating, okay?”

Jensen flipped him off. Steve got another beer.

 

\-------------

 

“That's twice now, you realise.”

Apparently in the month since they'd last seen each other, Jensen had decided that context was a luxury that Steve no longer required. “Am I supposed to know what the hell you're talking about?”

“That's twice that I've seen you end a show by sniffing Kane. Technically more if youtube videos count.”

Steve skated right on by the concept of Jensen analysing him by watching youtube videos and tried to count the glasses on the table. There weren't nearly enough to justify this level of oddball, and Jensen had a pretty high baseline level of oddball. “You're... what?” A memory nagged at the back of Steve's mind.  “Are you still on the sniffing thing?”

Jensen shrugged. “It's weird man.”

“Your obsession with this is weird. I haven't been sniffing Kane. And even if I had, which I haven’t, it wouldn’t be weird. He usually smells good.”

Jensen nodded sagely. “See, told you. Weird.”

Steve's retort was interrupted by Jared dropping in to the chair next to him and snagging Steve's beer. “What's weird?”

Jensen sighed and handed his own beer to Jared before sliding Steve's back across the table. “Steve says he was practically inhaling Christian on stage because he smells good.”

Steve started to point out that that wasn't actually what he said at all, but Jared was looking dangerously thoughtful. “Oh, is that what that was?” He nudged Steve with his knee. “Because yeah, that is super weird.”

Steve glared and growled “Your mom is super weird.” Jared actually stuck his tongue out at him. Steve mentally reassessed his life choices; he definitely needed new friends.

 

\-------------------

 

Two hours later Steve was trying to enjoy a quiet smoke out in the beer garden, when Jensen joined him again.

“You do know you're completely screwed if you actually think Chris smells good after two hours on stage, right?”

Steve continued to watch the lazy curls of smoke coming from the end of his cigarette because the alternative was acknowledging Jensen’s statement and yeah, no. He went for ignoring the ridiculous statements instead. “Did the world just change the traditional greeting away from 'hello' and not bother to tell me?”

Jensen rolled his eyes, which Steve though was completely uncalled for. “I'm just saying – I've hugged Kane after gigs and I love the guy, but 'smells good' isn't exactly the phrase I'd use to describe him.”

Steve could feel a headache coming on. For him or Jensen he wasn’t sure yet. “Yeah, I'm not going to have this conversation about how our best friend smells. It’s creepy. This conversation is creepy.”

Jensen apparently wasn't going to be deterred. “This conversation is necessary. Look, let's be honest. After two hours on stage, Chris smells like booze, cigarette smoke and well, someone who insists on wearing three shirts and a beanie under stage lights.”

“Do you have a point buried in here Ackles, or are you trying to convince me to drown myself in my pint glass?”

“The point is that, objectively, that's not a pretty smell. So you gotta ask yourself, why does it suddenly smell good to you?”

Steve took another drag of his cigarette and tried to refill his glass with the power of his mind. Drowning himself could still be an option. “Obviously I have a brain tumour.”

Jensen smiled. “Worse actually. Carlson, I hate to tell you this, but I think you're in love with Kane.”

Jensen laughed at the look on Steve’s face. Because apparently giving your friend an incredulity-induced heart attack is _funny_. “Oh come on. Is it really that hard to picture? You work together, you live together whenever you can, you share beds and I _know_ you’ve shared girls. Face it. Kane is the longest relationship you’ve ever had, and you’re not even getting laid.”

Oh. So this is what going crazy felt like. Steve finished his cigarette and immediately lit up a new one. He would blame Jensen if he ended up with emphysema. “Sorry Jen, I was wrong. Obviously _you_ have the brain tumour. Where do you even come up with this shit? And so help me, if you say Jared...”

Jensen ducked his head and looked unsure for the first time in the conversation. “More like experience.”

“Experience?” Steve scoffed. “You have experience falling in love with the smell of your best friend? What, one day you woke up and realised that Padalecki’s ever present odour of wet dog and sasquatch sweat was actually a turn on?”

If Steve hadn’t been staring at Jensen so incredulously, he would’ve missed the way his jaw tightened as he gritted out something that sounded suspiciously like “More or less, yeah.”

Steve stared. “Wait, what? You and Jared?”

Jensen stared straight ahead, jaw still tight. If Steve had been a more unkind person he would’ve said he deserved to squirm, but as it was, Jensen just looked too… sad for Steve to really revel in the schadenfreude.

“No, Jared and Gen. Me and a moderate amount of unresolved feelings for my best friend.”

Steve winced at the wistfulness in Jensen’s tone and was still trying to come up with an appropriate response when Jensen interrupted his line of thought.

“Anyway, that’s not the issue here.” Steve watched as he deliberately pulled himself together and wrenched a mischievous grin on to his face. Steve was impressed – you could barely see the strain. “Last I heard, Kane isn’t marrying the wrong co-star, so you have a chance to get with it or get over it before you have to join me in the bitter old man club.”

“I’m sorry Jen. Are you absolutely sure you don't have a brain tumour. Because I’m telling you not to worry about me going all Miss Havisham on your ass. I’m not in love with Kane.”

Jensen looked away and Steve resolved to have a good long talk with him about friends helping friends and it being okay to come to those friends with your emotional problems and crushes on overgrown man-puppies, Texas or no Texas. He was supposed to be the woolly California hippie anyway; he’d get away with it.

When Jensen looked back, he’d returned to nonchalance. “Whatever man. But somewhere along the line you started associating eau de sweaty readneck with happiness and love and all that gooey shit. You best figure out why that is, or you’re in trouble.”

With that Jensen drained his beer and disappeared back inside. Steve sat blinking for a moment, before following him in to the bar. He scowled at the sight of Christian flirting with a pretty blonde and walked over to Jared.

“Jensen says you smell like wet dog.”

Steve laughed at Jared’s impression of a kicked puppy and slipped out the back door.

 

\------------------------------

 

The next night, Steve was feeling worried. He had tried to ignore Christian, especially breathing too deeply around him, but when Christian had wandered over and thrown an arm across his shoulders during a solo, Steve’s breath had caught in his chest and he found himself unconsciously turning his face in to Christian’s shoulder.

After the show, he had tried to shake off the feeling by attaching himself to the curvy brunette he had seen watching from the bar, but when he had slipped his arm around her waist to inhale the clean smell of shampoo and body wash, it felt all wrong and he caught himself seeking out the familiar scent of stale beer and sweat damp hair.

Now he was in his usual spot curled up on the too small couch on the back of the tour bus. Christian, also as usual, had flopped down next to him, warm and relaxed and drunkenly recounting the blowjob he had just received from one of the bar’s waitresses.

“Fuck Steve, she was so fucking hot, you should have seen her. She kept doing this thing with her tongue, yeah? Man, it was like she was born with a cherry stem in her mouth.”

Steve screwed his face up. “That sounds like a choking hazard. Also, ew.”

Christian waved him off. “You know what I mean. Anyway, so I was getting pretty in to it, but trying to hold back, you know, make it last. Well she must have gotten impatient, because next thing I know she’s got a finger up my ass and I’m coming so hard I almost fell over.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure all the Jack had nothing to do with that.” Steve mumbled, trying to ignore the way his chest got hot and tight as Christian tried to demonstrate what his friend had been doing with her tongue.

Christian shook his head emphatically. “Nah man, it was full on ‘weak at the knees, blinding light, think I’m gonna pass out’ good.” He dropped his head back to the couch and let his eyes slide closed. “Love an adventurous chick man” He mumbled. “It’s been way too long since somebody did that to me.”

Oh, well that was just a brilliant. Steve shifted uncomfortably as unbidden images flashed through his mind. Christian with _Steve’s_ fingers up his ass. Christian bent over the couch in the dressing room. Christian coming on Steve’s dick, head thrown back and bright blue eyes wide open.

Christian apparently didn’t notice because he yawned and slumped closer in to Steve’s side.

“You’ve done it though haven’t you man? Messed around with guys? You’d know how good it can feel, right?”

Jesus Christ. Steve needed to end this conversation right now before he did something stupid like pull his best friend in to his lap to show him _exactly_ what he could feel. He pushed none too gently at Christian’s shoulder.

“Come on, get off me you limpet. You’re about to pass out on this shitty couch and I need a shower. I fucking reek.”

Christian made a soft sound of protest and tried to wriggle back in to Steve’s side. “Whatever man.” He mumbled through a jaw-cracking yawn. “You always smell good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Soo... I've been in fandom and reading fic for more than a decade, and yet somehow this is my first fic since I was 14 years old and writing Mary Sue self-inserts about me and the Australian swimming team. (You now know more about me than you ever needed to.)
> 
> This means feedback and pointers would be really really appreciated. There is a second part to this, which might actually involve something approaching porn(!), if I can convince myself to get it polished up and posted.


End file.
